


Revelations

by chugster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chugster/pseuds/chugster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short and (mostly) sweet bits and pieces. Set on a time before the Apocalypse, Dean and Castiel's relationship goes from being friends to lovers. The stories could be read as belonging to a continuous story line but were written as one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleeplessness

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in ff.net some years ago, now revisited, re-edited (re-written) and whatnot. Most of these were drabbles or double-drabbles to begin with but since I'm terrible at sticking to word limits, they are not quite as short as that. But it's a close thing.
> 
> I clearly don't own the characters from Supernatural, I make no money playing with them, but play with them I do.
> 
> No spoilers for the show.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surely there must be a commandment about coveting an angel? No? Well alright then.

Another toss and another turn, another long suffering puff of a deep breath and still nothing. Dean was unable to find peace long enough to fall asleep.  He and Sam had been in this motel for days, cooped up inside with nothing to do but wait for their monster to show. Dean was twitchy with their forced bout of inactivity, thoughts running in circles. It was closing on three a.m. and all he wanted was to sleep, yet his head space was stubbornly filled with images of things he couldn’t have, things like-

_Castiel’s hands. His fingers, palms and wrists; wrists that disappeared into (often dirty, sometimes bloody) white cuffs of his dress shirt, which in turn were swallowed by the sleeves of that wretched old trench coat, out of sight but clearly far from out of mind._

At least from Dean’s mind. He twisted his body, flipping on his back with the springs in his mattress creaking, trying to think of something else and ended up remembering-

_Castiel's stormy eyes, his ruffled hair, the rough stubble forever stuck in the state of a five o’clock shadow. The curve of his lips, the slope of his neck, the line of his shoulders._

Dean groaned, stuffing his face into the pillow. He was _not_ having dirty thoughts about the angel, for Heaven’s sake. Castiel might not be as saintly as he once was, but he was definitely not turning to a sinner on Dean’s watch.

Besides, there was a snowball’s chance in Hell that Cas even knew what lust was, other than as a strange aspect of the human condition he’d spent centuries observing.

_Had Castiel found it dull? Irrational and disruptive? Maybe he’d been too busy to even notice it._

_But maybe he’d watched. Watched and been curious, watched and wanted and- Damn it all to Hell, he was not going to sleep tonight._

With an irritated sigh and tense, jerky movements, Dean dressed up and stalked out of the motel room. He needed a break from all this nonsense, he needed another focus.

What he needed was their monster to show.


	2. The Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel offers Dean a white picket fence.

Castiel found Dean from the far end of the bar, looking miserable and scowling at a row of empty shot glasses. He watched Dean watching the glasses for a while before taking a seat next to him.

“You know I could make it all go away for you, if you wanted to, Dean,” he said to him. “No need to drink yourself stupid to forget.”

“What’s your point, Cas?” asked Dean and focused his drunken stare on Castiel with some difficulty.

“I’m saying that you could wake up tomorrow, with no memory of the War, the upcoming Apocalypse, demons or angels. I heard you’re fond of white picket fences, although I confess not seeing the appeal myself. But I could take you to a fence and you could be happy, at least for a while until the world ends.” Dean opened his mouth to explain white picket fences to Castiel, but in the end held his tongue. It probably wouldn’t have made sense to the angel anyway.

“No, I think I’m good.” Dean said instead. “Someone’s got to save humanity from the monsters, might as well be us, right?” Castiel looked at Dean, didn’t say anything.

“Besides, I could never be happy not remembering the angels,” Dean then continued with a smirk that left Castiel more confused than the whole thing with the fence. The man clapped him on the shoulder and together they walked out into the night.


	3. Better Than Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean compares Castiel to a pie.

“Oh my God.” Dean said quietly, lying on his side of the motel bed and staring at Castiel as if he’d just had a revelation.

“There’s a commandment for that, you know.” Castiel reprimanded, repeating the words mainly for appearances sake. He’d learned to pick his battles more carefully these days.

“No, seriously. Oh. My. God.” Dean continued, ignoring the angel’s halfhearted protests.

“What is it?”

“I think I like you more than pie,” Dean answered with wonder in his voice. He raised his hand to Castiel’s face, brushing the back of his knuckles against his cheek. Castiel smiled and tilted his head further into Dean’s caress.

“That’s high praise coming from you,” he murmured, then turned to place a kiss on the palm of Dean’s hand.

“It is,” Dean said, still looking a bit dazed at his discovery. He shifted closer to the angel and kissed him, eyes open as if fearing Castiel would disappear at any moment. To be fair, it had happened once or twice before so Castiel couldn’t blame him too much for doing it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Castiel assured the man and Dean chose to believe him, closing his eyes for the next kiss.


	4. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the little things.

When Dean and Castiel got together, there was no big shift in their relationship.

Dean still got frustrated with Castiel and ended up flirting with pretty bartenders. He didn't leave the bar with them, though, preferring to keep others an arm’s length away.

Castiel was still in the habit of leaving Dean alone for days without real warning, acting as if he’d been gone for no more than a heartbeat when he came back. But he always came back eventually, ignoring the concept of personal space altogether as he did.

None of this was anything new, though. The biggest differences were found in the details. The two men now shared jokes that Sam wasn’t privy to. They shared the overwhelming relief of the other coming out of a battle unscathed. And sometimes, although Castiel had no need for sleep, they shared their space, shared a bed. Continued to share a life.


End file.
